Written in Ron
by CheekyRoseB
Summary: Missing R/Hr moments from "Written In Sand" told from Ron's pov.


First, I think it's important to say that if you haven't read "Written In Sand", then this won't make a lot of sense or at least it won't have as much of an impact. So, read it if you haven't. You might enjoy yourself, lol. Second, I know it might seem weird that I'm uploading this even before "Written in Sand" is finished, but it doesn't interfere with the story or give away any spoilers. All four moments I picked are before Ron and Hermione get together. So, it's more of a holiday present to everyone than anything else. I picked M as this story's rating just for safety. Ron's thoughts can get a little naughty, lol.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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**From chapter 10- It's not what you think!**

"So, did you find Cormac?" Ron asked. He didn't know why he just couldn't let the issue go. Though he was curious, he honestly didn't want to know. He didn't want to think about the bloody git chatting her up and using his bloody git charm on her. Not that he should have cared. He had told himself all day - and every day since she had said yes to Cormac - that he would stop feeling jealous and would stop making a big deal out of it. However, his plan hadn't worked. Hermione going to the Christmas Ball with Cormac McLaggen was the biggest fucking deal in the world. Ron couldn't understand why she had said yes to him. He was an _arsehole_ and treated him terribly. He was an _arsehole_ and would spend the entire night trying to get inside of Hermione's knickers. Cormac wouldn't respect her at all and that was obvious. In spite of this, Hermione didn't seem to care. She wanted to go with the prick. So, he had to make himself not care either. He was going with Lavender anyway.

Hermione turned back to him and her face was stern, but her eyes were soft. "Yes, I did, Ron. Is that a problem?" she asked in an even softer voice. It was the same voice she had used when he held her in the classroom earlier that day. Although, his heart didn't race and every hair on his body didn't rise in nervousness and excitement like it had then. All he felt now was hurt and confusion. He still didn't know what she wanted. He was still stressed.

He turned away from her and focused on the flames in the fireplace. He couldn't look at her for too long when her large, deep brown eyes were so focused on him. Her eyes made him think and feel things that were of no use anymore. He dug his fingernails into the carpet and tried to remember what she had even asked him. It was extremely difficult to concentrate on words sometimes when he was with her. "No," he said dryly, as he finally remembered her question.

He lay back on the rug and continued to look into the flames. He decided that it wasn't a problem that she had found Cormac and had said and done who knows what with him. He didn't care. He couldn't care. He had a girlfriend. That was the whole point. He _had_ someone. Hermione was just his friend. He heard her move to the floor and sit by his head. It was even harder to focus on the red and orange blaze. He could smell Hermione's honey scent, and it was just as powerful as it had been when he had held her. When her warm, soft body had fit so perfectly against his and calmed him in a way that he hadn't felt in weeks.

"Is Ginny really okay?" Ron asked. He had to take his mind off the feeling. He had to bloody stop and focus on another problem. His personal grief shifted to uneasiness, irritation, and anger. They were things he usually felt when dealing with Ginny and her relationship with Dean. It was easier to think and feel for Ginny and Dean than it was to think and feel for his relationship with Hermione. Then again, he didn't really have a relationship with Hermione. That was the whole point.

"Yes," she said calmly.

He wanted to believe her and he did, and already he felt a little better. Nothing was worse than his little sister crying over blokes who didn't deserve her. If he couldn't help her, then it was great that Hermione could. It wasn't a total surprise though. His best friend was brilliant. "They were fighting about Harry, weren't they?" Even if she didn't say, he knew that they were. It was obvious that Ginny was still in love with him, and every day Dean glared at Harry a little harder. Ron hated how complicated it was to be between his best mate and his sister. He finally moved his eyes from the flames and to Hermione. He hoped that she would have the answers he was silently searching for, but he regretted it as soon as their eyes met. She was staring at him deeply, almost as if she had already been looking at him. He was stuck in her gaze and once again breathing became harder to do. Everything was always intense between them, but he didn't know why. Hermione didn't feel anything for him at all, but when she looked at him in the powerful and loving way that she sometimes did, he couldn't stop his desires from thinking that maybe something was there.

"Yes, they were," she finally answered.

Hearing her speak finally released him from his trance, but his mouth was far too dry and his brain was far too hazy to think of something intelligent to say. He simply nodded and turned back to the fire. The flames danced effortlessly, and it made him realize how complicated things were truly becoming and how everyone he cared about seemed to be in a state that he was powerless to change. "Everyone is stressed," he said quietly.

Hermione moved to her stomach and lay against the rug. Without thinking he got on his stomach as well and moved so they were at eye level with each other. He was close enough to touch her but still too far away in his eyes. He ignored the pleading voices in his head and the itchiness in his palms. He moved his attention to the fire once more, and Hermione seemed to do the same. He was so tired, and his eyes drooped closed as they watched the blaze.

Ron twisted his arm so it wasn't under his stomach anymore. He opened his eyes and silently gasped. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Hermione's sleeping body in front of him. He looked around. They were still in the Common Room and it was now completely empty. They must've fallen asleep, and it had to be well past midnight. He opened his mouth and raised his hand, ready to gently shake her awake, but as she faintly inhaled and exhaled and her back rose and fell with every breath, he realized that he didn't want her to wake.

He gazed at Hermione's relaxed and beautiful face. She actually looked at peace, and her full red lips were slightly parted. He carefully put his hand to her cheek. There were strands of hair interrupting his complete vision of her face. He slowly moved the thick, bushy strands back and eased them behind her ear. She didn't move at all. He let out a shaky breath and noticed for the first time that his body was trembling. He didn't know why her sleeping so soundly right next to him mesmerized him. They were, in a way, sleeping together. He was sleeping with Hermione Granger. The thought made him grin and blush. He knew that it was wrong to feel thrilled. He hadn't even slept with Lavender yet, and she constantly asked if she could join him at night. He honestly didn't want to sleep with her. He knew that it would never compare to what he had right beside him, breathing and moving in sleep smoothly and precisely, as if there was soft music playing in her dream.

Before he could stop himself, he slowly moved forward and tenderly pressed his lips to her cheek. Her skin was incredibly soft, and he had kissed close enough to her mouth that he felt the edges of her lips. It made his body warm over, and his mouth tingled. He pulled away as her head ever so slightly moved. He froze in horror, but she didn't stir again or wake. He took his position back against the rug and watched her. He felt a wave of triumph. Though he hadn't really kissed her and it wasn't as if Hermione had been aware, it felt wonderful. It was stolen. It was secret. It was _his_. He had his own small paradise, and no one would be able to take it away from him. He closed his eyes and determined that he wanted to sleep with Hermione for as long as he could. It was wrong and he knew it, but there was no way that he would leave her side that night.

It simply felt too good.

**From chapter 15- Where do I stand?**

"Maybe you should have taken Muggle Studies," Hermione said.

Ron frowned at her idea. Of course, Hermione's solution to everything was to do work _more_. Nothing was better in her eyes than taking more classes and getting an even bigger workload. The woman was mental, but it worked for her. "Like I need another class. Besides, why would I need to when both of you were raised by Muggles? Anytime I need to know something, I'll just ask one of you." He heard Harry chuckle but his attention was on Hermione. He knew that she would react to his statement.

"That's very independent of you, Ronald," she said sharply but with a hint of sarcasm. It was exactly the response he had been hoping for. He loved hearing her call him 'Ronald'. She only said it when he got under her skin, which he loved to do. She was incredibly attractive and irresistible when she was bothered in the special way that only he could make her.

He turned to her and grinned. "Thank you, Hermione."

"Oh, I wasn't being serious," she said. She glared at him a little, but he saw the humor and playfulness in her features. He couldn't feel happier. They were finally on holiday and he was finally away from Lavender. It helped that Hermione was currently lying on his bed in an almost seductive way that made his cock particularly stiff. He was unbelievably captivated by her and he wanted to play as well.

He crawled over to her. He didn't know how she did it, but Hermione made him lose himself sometimes and he simply acted on impulse. Crawling was just one of the many things she made him want to do for her. He got so close to her face that he could feel her breath on his lips. It made them burn. "I learned how to use a felly tone, didn't I?"

She put a hand over her mouth and laughed. It was pretty and adorable, and it made him feel like he was floating above the ground a little. Making Hermione laugh was one of his favorite things to do. "It's a telephone, Mr. All Knowing," she said, teasingly, and equally as seductive in her current position. The cheeky witch had to be up to something, and it was doing his head in.

He shrugged and gave her his best smirk. He could play her game and play it well. "Eh, what are you gonna do with me?"

For whatever reasons her cheeks stained a faint pink. It made him even more attracted to her. "I'm not sure yet," she said.

He certainly knew what he wanted her to do with him, and he fought with everything he had not to think about it. He was so happy and Hermione was so pretty and once again so close. She seemed happy too, and he didn't want it to change. The dance had been a bloody nightmare. His argument with Lavender had been bollocks, and Ginny's breakup with Dean torn him up, but all he cared about at the moment was Hermione grinning at him. All he could see was the pink color on her smooth cheek. He wanted to kiss her cheek again before moving to her mouth, neck, and any other place that she might like. He hoped that she couldn't read his mind. He wanted to turn away, but he found the will not to. They were playing a game; he knew that. He wouldn't give in and look away first - no matter how unsure he was of what would happen if he didn't.

Harry cleared his throat. "Hmm, err, well, I think I will go see if dinner is ready."

"Okay, thanks, mate," Ron answered automatically. He had forgotten that Harry was even in the room. He still didn't take his eyes off Hermione, and her face didn't move either. He vaguely heard the door close, and they were finally alone for the first time since their talk in his room before they left Hogwarts. That had been bollocks as well. Hermione had assured him that she didn't do anything with Cormac at the ball. She had looked close to tears as she told him that it was all a lie. He still didn't know if he believed her. He wanted to. He wanted to believe that she had simply gone to bed like he had.

The thought of Cormac kissing Hermione was awful, but the possibly that he had touched her, and worse, had sex with her almost stopped his heart. He knew that what Hermione did with her body wasn't his concern, but Cormac didn't deserve to feel her completely. There was no way in hell that he would cherish and handle her body in the way that it was supposed to be. Cormac was a bleeding bastard, and he wouldn't respect her virginity and feel honored that she would trust him enough with something so special. No - Cormac couldn't and wouldn't do any of those things. At least, not in the way that Ron could and would.

Finally, he looked away and turned his back to her. He had to stop. Whatever she did or didn't do wasn't his business. She was with Krum or Cormac or Harry or whoever. The only girl whose business he was supposed to care about was Lavender's. He was with Lavender and not Hermione. Hermione was just his friend. It was all she wanted, and it was all he wanted. "Do you want to play chess or something?" he asked. He couldn't see her, but somehow he could tell that she wasn't smiling anymore.

"Um…sure," she said. He nodded and didn't look at her as he reached into his trunk and pulled out his old, worn set. "Do you want to play on the bed?"

"Floor is better," he rushed. The last place he needed to be was on his bed with Hermione. He didn't know how much self-control he had left to last him the rest of the day. He laid the set out, and Hermione sat across from him. He glanced up at her every once in a while as he mindlessly placed the pieces. She sat straight and still as she looked off to the side, appearing deep in thought. It shortened his breath. She was elegant no matter what she did. He thought about how she looked during the ball and how elegant she had been then as well. He thought about how all he had wanted was one dance. One moment when he could touch her, smell her skin, and tell her how amazing she looked. He just wanted one chance to be alone with her, even though they would have been incased with people. It didn't matter. He never got his chance. He'd never get an opportunity, and it was something that he had to get over. He would somehow stop caring. He told himself over and over in his head that he didn't care.

Hermione moved her eyes up, and he quickly looked down. It finally dawned on him. "Shit, I'm missing a piece."

"What?" she asked.

"I'm missing a knight," he said.

She smiled and held up her closed fist. "Oh, you mean this knight?" She dangled the black piece in her hand.

"Oi, when did you take that?" He hoped that he hadn't been staring so extremely that he failed to notice that she had actually moved around and saw him gawking at her like a twat.

She shrugged. "When you first pulled the set out. This is my favorite piece."

He couldn't stop his blush. Hermione always made him blush like a tit. He wanted to believe that the knight was her favorite piece because of what had happened during their first year, but his luck wasn't that bloody great. "Yeah, well, we can't exactly play without it. Give it here."

"Why? Maybe I want to keep it," she said, giving him a playful smile again. She had to stop teasing him. She had to stop being fantastic and sexy and fun and happy. It was so much harder to hold himself back when she was all of those things at once.

"Mione, stop it. Really - hand it over." He reached his hand out to her but she backed up.

"No, it's mine," she said, widening her smile even more and moving her body back like a tigress.

She looked delicious and his mouth watered tremendously. He didn't know if she was trying to make him mental or if she was truly naïve to how much she was affecting his mind and body at the moment. "Hermione, don't make me take it from you."

Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't do that," she said softly.

He knew that she was challenging him. She wanted to play again, and he had no power to fight against it. He refused to ignore the fact that nothing in the world could make him feel more alive than Hermione. It felt so good, and he would let himself be happy with her - no matter what it meant. "Then I reckon years of friendship has taught you nothing." He made a move toward her, and Hermione quickly got up a squeaked. She made a line for the door, but he was easily faster. He caught up to her and took her by the arm. He whipped her around, and she tripped back against the wall.

He snatched the piece out of her hand. "I win."

"No, you don't," she said, trying to get away.

He speedily placed his palms flat against either side of her head so she couldn't run off, and he also placed his feet on either side of hers. She was completely blocked by his body. He had her and he wouldn't let her get away. "Say that I win," he demanded, almost breathlessly, though for no reason was he fatigued.

Her chest heaved and she was slightly flushed again. "You…you win," she said in an equally breathless voice.

He didn't know what to say. He towered over Hermione in a way that he didn't with Lavender. Lavender was taller than she was, and she was more at his eye level. However, it wasn't exactly what he wanted. He liked that he had to look down at Hermione, and he enjoyed that her gorgeous dark eyes moved up to meet his gaze. She was the perfect size for him. She was the perfect person for him. She was beautiful, smart, difficult, trustworthy, kind, a bit mad, and everything else that he needed a girl to be for him.

He couldn't take his eyes off her as she stared at him. He was so close to her. All he had to do was press forward a little and his body would be against hers. He would feel the softness of her chest and the warmth of her skin. He would smell her sweet scent and hear the faint puff of air that almost panted out of her. He gazed into her face and saw everything that he had shunned away all year. No matter how painful it was to swallow the fact that Hermione didn't have feelings for him, he spat out the revelation and stupidly let himself believe that she did once again. He let himself dream that her heart was racing, her hairs were pricking up, and her head was clouding just like his. He was excited, nervous, and completely at home, and he wanted to believe she felt the same way. He needed her to feel as safe and whole as he did.

However, it hurt him to feel so complete. It was excruciating because he realized that he would never move on. No matter how much he wanted to be totally engrossed in Lavender, he couldn't. Nothing would change because all he had ever wanted or would ever need was against the wall in front of him. He wanted to tell Hermione right then and there that he was in love with her and wanted to be with her more than he wanted to breathe. He wanted to kiss her and taste the mouth that he thought about more often than he should have. He wanted so many things and every single one had to deal with Hermione. It always came back to her. Even more pain hit against him. A terrible knot throbbed in his chest. He had to let go. He'd never survive if he didn't let her go and move on with his life.

"We should get back to it, yeah?" he whispered.

It took awhile for Hermione to respond. "If you want to," she said softly, holding on to the sides of her jeans. He had a feeling that she was challenging him again, but he didn't have the nerve to play anymore. Either way he lost.

"Yeah, I do," he said. He reluctantly moved away from her and walked back to the chessboard.

**From chapter 16- Am I somewhere?**

"So, um, where do we start?" Hermione asked, still not looking at him.

"Huh?" Ron panicked at her question. He didn't know what she was referring to, but he immediately remembered that she was talking about Quiddtich and _not_ anything sexual. "Oh, well, let's go to page one," he quickly said, turning back to the beginning. Even through his shirt he could feel the heat of her small hand against his side, and he couldn't ignore how good it felt. His own position wasn't as comfortable. He didn't like the strain of having his arm stretched so far on the couch, so he moved to her shoulder and kept his hand there. It didn't mean anything. Friends touched each other's shoulders all the time. If not, then he and Harry had a lot of bloody explaining to do.

"I think I know some of the basics, Ronald. I'm not totally lost," she said in a weird voice. It was almost like she wasn't paying attention to him, and he understood why she wouldn't. To her they were simply looking at boring Quiddtich pictures, but to him it was so much more. He hated how long his arm was. It didn't feel right dangling almost off her shoulder. He didn't want to move it but he had to. He tried to focus again on what they were talking about.

"Yeah, I know but-wait a second." He had to change positions before his hovering fingertips started falling asleep.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked, moving forward a little.

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. His chances with Hermione were already slim, and it probably dropped even lower at that moment. She must have thought that he was pathetic and weak. He couldn't even support her perfectly proportioned body against him. He was the world's biggest sod. "No, not at all," he said. "I just need to adjust. You can go back to where you were." He hoped that she would, and he was relived when she settled back against the cushion. He moved his arm from behind her shoulder, to behind her back. He didn't know if he should go for it and be completely comfortable or stay content with where he was. He decided to find his bollocks and do it. He slowly wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his hand on her hip. He couldn't believe where his hand was. It had never touched that part of her body, or at least in such a way before.

"Is this okay?" He didn't mean for his voice to sound as faint as it did.

"Yes, it's fine," she said gently. He felt relief flow through him. At least for a little while he would be able to feel her. He was incredibly close to her body, and it made him hot and rather dizzy. He didn't want to think about how every wet dream he'd ever had about Hermione usually started this same way. It always began with a simple touch and ended with them naked, exhausted, and covered in each other's sweat, saliva, and sexual fluids. He shook his head slightly and tried to mentally keep his cock from getting hard.

"I know what the positions are," Hermione suddenly said.

Hearing her talk about positions certainly didn't help his slowly inflating genital. 'Positions' had been somewhere that his mind had taken him to night after night since he was thirteen. In his dreams, he and Hermione had done everything from all fours, to her legs being against his chest, to her sitting on his face. No - he had to stop. It wasn't _right_. She was just his friend, and Ron had no business daydreaming about having his _friend_ sit on his face. "Yeah, what are they?" he abruptly asked to hopefully stop the marvelous visions of her above him, roughly rocking herself against his mouth as he brilliantly found a way to fit his tongue and finger inside her. Fucking hell did he want to taste her. His heart started to beat ridiculously fast. Her back was right against his chest, so there was no way that she couldn't feel it. The only question was what she thought about it.

"Um, there's the Seeker, Keeper, Chasers, and Beaters," Hermione called out.

Once again her voice took him out of his trance and his yearning to give her a thorough tongue shagging. It was sexy hearing her talk about Quiddtich, and especially in a way that almost sounded like she was nervously trying to impress him. He reckoned that the edginess in her voice had to deal with her wanting to get everything perfect as always. Ron chuckled to hide his own nerves. "That's great." He flipped the page to something with more facts and pictures. He wasn't nearly distracted enough from her body and his sex dreams.

Right as he seemed to find a better section, Hermione moved away and grabbed her mug. He couldn't stop his eyes from peeking at her plump little arse as she bent over. She wore yellow and white pajamas and a white t-shirt, but she might as well have been wearing black silky knickers and two Firewhiskey bottle caps. He closed his eyes and hit his head against the cushion. He had to stop. He was _not_ incredibly turned on, and he did _not_ want to see exactly what kind of knickers she was wearing. She was Hermione Granger. She was his best friend and nothing bloody more.

Ron had a girlfriend. He had a girlfriend who was greatly fit and had significantly large tits and fine curves. Lavender's body was impressive and it seemed to satisfy almost every bloke's fantasy, except for his. He mentally erased that fact. He did enjoy Lavender's body. He had to. He tried to think about what her figure would look like in black lacey knickers and bottle caps.

Hermione sat back and he put his arm around her again. At that moment, every strained vision of Lavender disappeared. Ron realized that he wasn't touching the cotton of Hermione's shirt anymore. What he felt was warm, soft, and _alive_. What he felt was Hermione's side. Somehow, her shirt had shrunk or rose because nothing was between him and her skin anymore. He didn't know what to do. He waited for Hermione to move or say something, but all she did was sit still and in silence. She didn't even look at him. Then again, she hadn't really looked at him since they decided to share his blanket. He was such a sodding idiot. He should've realized that sharing a blanket with Hermione on the couch would end in bloody disaster.

He had to do something. He had to kill the awkwardness, but he didn't know how. Then 'it' happened. He felt the hairs on her stomach rise and bumps hit his fingers. Hermione had goose bumps, but he didn't know why. He couldn't believe that she liked that he was touching her or that she had even noticed. He wanted to know if it was true. He needed to know what she was feeling, so he decided to use some of the Gryffindor courage he apparently had.

He slowly moved his fingers against her. He trailed his nails gently across the side of her small stomach and up and down. It felt so damn good. One touch erased anything he had ever done to Lavender. As much as he had actually enjoyed squeezing her tits and feeling her cup him, it didn't match this. It didn't match the shear heat of Hermione's supple skin against his fingertips. She whimpered amazingly and jerked a bit. It made his cock ten bloody times harder. He had heard her whimper before, but it was nothing like this. This was raw and covered in something that wasn't friendly. It sounded like lust, and it scared him. He wasn't sure what it would mean if Hermione had lust for him.

Ron stopped. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sorry at all but he knew that he needed to be. For all he knew Hermione didn't want to be touched by him. He hadn't even touched Lavender in such a way. She was his girlfriend, and he was supposed to only touch her. He wasn't supposed to feel every part of his body on alert and sweaty because of his best friend's perfection.

"No, don't be sorry, please, don't be sorry," Hermione breathed. For the first time she moved her face to his. He was surprised by how red she was and how hazy her eyes were. Her forehead was also a little sweaty. She looked exactly like how he felt. They mirrored each other, and he felt every part of him connected to her. She was gorgeous, and he wanted her so badly. All he had was craving for her, and he could feel it seep out his body. Though, no matter how much he wanted to brush it off to protect himself, he could have sworn that not all the craving belonged to him. He was almost sure that she wanted him as well.

He licked his lips that were incredibly dried out. "So, this is okay?" He wanted it to be okay. He wanted Hermione to like him touching her. All he wanted to do was be with her, make her feel good, and give her something for always being the best part of his day. He never wanted to give his complete devotion to another girl. He knew that it was specially designed for Hermione. However, it wasn't just emotional. He needed it to be okay for him to touch her because he wasn't sure if he could take not being able to feel her body now that he had a taste of it. His hands itched to feel her and make her whimper again. His body throbbed to feel her against him, and his sexual need was almost overwhelming. He was just so fucking horny. Nothing else ever made him as peaked as Hermione did. He didn't even want anything else to be able to.

"It's more than okay," she whispered in a quivering voice. She lay back against him. Another wave of triumph flowed through him. She wanted to feel his touch. It was _more than okay_. He promptly went back to stroking her side and stomach. He couldn't help but to once again compare. Whenever he touched Lavender, it was always with a bit of difficulty and guilt. It wasn't like that with Hermione. His hand moved effortlessly, as if it had been made to feel her and pleasure her. Her skin was scorching and damp, and she softly whimpered and jumped at his every touch. It must have felt good to her. He was actually satisfying Hermione. His cock was so swollen that it ached somewhat. He didn't know if he was supposed to say anything, and to stay on the safe side he remained quiet. He didn't mind not talking. He was completely content with listening to her moan. It was erotic and soothing in a strange way.

He moved his hand up until he felt himself getting close to her bra, then he moved back down again. He had to control himself and keep his sexual urges at bay. He wanted to reach higher and reach under the material. He wanted to touch her breasts and massage them. He had spent enough time studying her chest in various jumpers and shirts to reckon that they would fit flawlessly in his hands. He also wanted flick his fingertips over her nipples. He'd make them taut and possibly pinch them so she'd cry out but beg him to do it again.

He bit his lip and decided to move lower. It wasn't any safer there. He ran his fingers down until he felt himself getting close to the band of her pajamas. He was desperate to go lower. He wanted to reach down and under her knickers. He wanted to caress her pussy that was hopefully incredibly wet because of him. He'd feel her up with his middle and pointer fingers and reach deep into her to make her eyes roll back. All the while, he would rub her clit firmly with his thumb. He would work her until she came against his hand. Then, he'd suck every drop of her cum off his fingers before laying her back and fucking her passionately against the couch. So many different scenarios flipped through his mind, and he wanted to make her cum in all of them. He wanted Hermione to let go and not be such a stressed Prefect all the time. He knew that she had it in her to relax and let herself feel, and he knew deep in his heart that if anyone could get it out of her, then it was himself.

He couldn't even convince himself that it was wrong to want to take her there. Sure he had a girlfriend who did want to shag him, but anytime sex or anything sexual was involved, the only person that came to mind was Hermione. She was the only person he was supposed to experience it all with, and he liked to think that she felt the same way, even if she didn't. He knew how to push Hermione without making her feel threatened or out of her comfort zone. No other bloke had spent years studying her and adjusting to her stiffness like he had. No other bloke would ever be able to appreciate her madness and need to be in control and have things in order.

He suddenly moaned. Hermione had reached her hand under his shirt and touched him. Her small hand sent a shock of pleasure up his spine and down his groin. He tried not to lose it himself. He knew that if she moved her hand any lower than his waist, he'd toss right in his boxers. He could handle thinking about doing things to Hermione while in her company, but he'd never last letting his mind wander to her pumping his cock in her hand or sucking him off. Everything about Hermione Granger was accurate, detailed, and intelligent. There was no telling what she would make him feel if she got a hold of his body. It was almost too much to comprehend, and he had no idea what to do next. He didn't know what she wanted, and he wished that she would say something. He was about to burst in one way or another.

There was a creak at the staircase, and he was almost thankful. Hermione jumped away from his and stuck herself to the opposite side of the couch. She glugged down her tea as if it was the essence of life. He hastily covered his weeping erecting with his blanket and opened his magazine. The last thing he needed was his mum to see a full sized dragon egg in his trousers while Hermione was only a few spaces away.

"Mmm, well, I was wondering if you had gotten lost, but I guess you're okay."

He looked up at the cheeky voice. Ginny stood at the entryway with her usual annoying grin. She always thought that she knew everything, and even if she did it still irritated him. He was well aware that his little sister caught on to the situation faster than he did sometimes. Ginny casted her eyes between them, but it was obvious that she was speaking to Hermione. Hermione didn't answer her. All she did was blush even harder and babble. He had never seen the woman so unprepared before. Things were awkward and complicated enough without Hermione losing her brilliance.

"Do you need something, Ginny?" he asked. She always showed up at the wrong time, and she always had a look of achievement. It was bollocks. He'd never live this down, and he knew that she was going to tell Harry. A part of him actually hoped that she would. He needed advice from someone and as much as it bothered him at times, Harry understood Hermione better in a lot of ways. Ginny shrugged and continued to grin.

He grew impatient and he wouldn't put up with her bile. He stood and made sure to keep the blanket over his still fully-grown dragon egg. "Well, I think the tea helped. I'm going to sleep now. Goodnight." He lightly knocked himself against Ginny as he passed her to signal that she better leave it be, and he gave Hermione the best smile that he could. He was horribly anxious and confused and horny, but he needed her to know that he was okay as well. Luckily, she smiled back and some of his tension faded.

He didn't know what to do as he made the way to his room. He had to rid himself of his uncomfortable hardness with a good wank, but there was something bigger at stake. He needed to know if Hermione was mad at him or disgusted by what they did. He hoped that she didn't think he was a prick for touching her when he was in a relationship with someone else. He already felt guilt weight him down. He tried so hard to be a decent boyfriend to Lavender, but it was difficult when the real love of his life constantly pulled on his heart…and his bollocks. He sat on the stairs and grinned a little. He had touched Hermione, and it was everything he had ever thought it would be and more. He wasn't sure if he could really blame himself for always thinking about her. Lavender never made him feel anything close to what Hermione did. Regardless, it was still completely unfair to her. Lavender was really nice and fun in her own barmy way and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

Ron rubbed his neck and tried to relax. He knew it wasn't Lavender's fault, but he suddenly thought that maybe it wasn't his either. After what he just experienced, he didn't think that there was ever going to be a way to forget how Hermione made him feel. He began to think that maybe he wasn't supposed to move on in the first place. Hermione had wanted him to touch her. She could have stopped it at any moment but she didn't. Maybe she actually did fancy him.

He saw the bushiness of her hair from the corner of his eye. He looked up to find her looking at him, almost uneasily. He reckoned that she was probably searching for the same thing that he was. He smiled and rubbed his neck again. He had so much to think about as new possibilities were in sight. "Um, goodnight, Hermione."

She gave him a beautiful smile and slightly waved. It was one of his favorite things that she did. It was unbelievably sweet, and it felt like something special that she did only for him. It always made him feel a bit more important and made his love for her grow a little more. "Goodnight, Ron, sweet dreams."

He bit his lip and nodded. She had no idea how _sweet_ his dreams were really going to be. "I plan to," he said. He turned around and continued his climb to his room but stopped before he reached the door. He waited until he heard the door to Ginny's room close before making his way back down and to the loo. Before he would ever be able to have sweet dreams involving his cock and Hermione's pussy, he had to stay in reality and release the blood. He closed the door and leaned against it on the floor. He took off his shirt and stuffed the ends of it into his mouth before reaching his hand down his shorts.

Bloody Hermione Granger and all her bloody sexiness.

**From chapter 20- I'm only human!**

"Ron, you are not useless, and you help out more than you know. If you really want to help Harry and Ginny, then just be there for them. Let them know that you will be around if they want to talk. I know how frustrating this is. I feel the same way, but we can't force them to speak to us. We just need to be ready for when they are, okay?" She put a hand against his cheek and smiled at him so tenderly that he thought his heart would literally melt.

He felt thick and terribly useless to Harry and Ginny, but somehow Hermione had made him better. She always knew what to say and how to say it for Ron to trust her word and let go. She could make anything seem possible with her wisdom. She was just so bloody smart. He fucking loved her in a way that no one could ever possibly understand. Hermione simply kept his spirit from crumbling, and it was something that he already knew but had rediscovered over holiday. Every day he had shared with her had been magic and Christmas day was his greatest moment. It was something that Lavender, Cormac, Harry, or Krum couldn't take away from them.

Ron grinned at the fact and at her face. Hermione was smiling at him magnificently, and her soft touch was all he needed to shake off the dread and disappointment in himself. Her fingers were somewhat touching his lips, and it took all his power not to kiss them. "Okay, you're right. Bloody hell, you are always right."

Hermione chuckled and removed her hand. "Well, I'm not always right, but I do try my best."

He wanted to roll his eyes. They both knew that was bollocks. She was a bloody genius ad geniuses were always right. He took her hand without really realizing and laced their fingers together. They were connected perfectly again and he felt at ease. He didn't want to be without her comforting touches yet. They felt too incredible and powerful to ignore anymore. "And somehow your best is always good enough." He spoke tenderly and without thought. Everything came out naturally and it was truthful. He gazed at her. He wanted her to know that he meant every word, and he wanted her to hopefully see that he never wanted to be without her. He thought that she would tell him thanks or say that he was too sweet, but she put her forehead against his.

"You like my best?" she asked.

His eyes widened and he blushed horribly. He even saw a bit of color flush her face. He couldn't believe it. He knew the voice. It was playful and sexy. She was challenging him because she wanted to play. However, it seemed to be more than that. For years he and Hermione had played a game of who could outlast the other. They always challenged each other to see who would give in first and admit weakness. Hermione was the most complex person he'd ever met, but he stood up to her in a way that others didn't. It was perfect for them to contest each other as equals, but it didn't seem like she was just continuing their endless game. If he were honest with himself, then he'd swear that she was in fact _flirting_ with him. His heartbeat picked up. Hermione Granger was being flirtatious with him. She usually always nagged him, yelled at him, or gave him loving advice, but now she was seducing him. It was tremendously sensual and intelligent and covert. Of course, she was an expert at it. She was a bloody expert at every damn thing she did. He was honored to know someone so fantastic.

Once he accepted the revelation, he quickly decided to play as well. It might have been his only chance to have anything close to what they shared over holiday. Soon he'd have to go back to holding everything in and feeling the entire world and numbness at the same time. He licked his lips slowly and noticed that Hermione watched his tongue. She even squeezed his hand tighter. Bleeding Merlin, if she fancied his tongue so much, then he would be more than happy to use it on her in whatever way she wished. "Y-yes, I like your best. I like it a lot," he said. It wasn't as confident as he wanted it to be, but he knew that he got his message across.

Hermione closed her eyes, and his mind went over a hundred reasons why before settling on the fact that she had no idea how badly the maneuver made him want her. "Good. I can give you more of it, if you want me to."

He couldn't help it. He groaned quietly. She was winning. She had to realize what saying that did to him. She had to know that all he wanted in the entire world was to take her and make her his own. She had to understand that it was taking every ounce of his upbringing and loyalty to Lavender not to lift her up, back her up against the wall, and snog her breathless as he repeated how much he loved her, how brilliant she was, and how they were made for each other. He believed it wholeheartedly even if she didn't.

Nonetheless, he kept his nerve. It was just like playing chess. He had to be patient and calculate every move. He would tip things back into his favor. He gently tugged on her hand to get her attention. As she slowly opened her eyes, he gave her the most confident and mischievous smirk that he had. "Hmm, I think I'd love that. Don't hold anything back. I won't." He raised an eyebrow and hoped that she saw that he wasn't playing anymore. He really meant it.

Ron wanted her to give everything to him because he knew that if she wanted him, then he would give himself to her completely and without question. He didn't care if it wasn't what blokes were supposed to believe. Nothing about Hermione was average and nothing about what he felt for Hermione was typical. Krum, Cormac, and even Harry would never feel 'it'. He belonged to her, and everything about him was at her will. All she had to do was say the word. He longed to hear her say the words that he had ached over for ages.

However, nothing ever completely worked in his favor. She may have been flirting, but what she felt couldn't be the same as what he did. She didn't say anything. She only continued to look at him in a way that he didn't really understand. It was okay. He was used to it by now, and he had won in some way. He knew that she had nothing. 'Checkmate' for him. Even though he didn't want to, he let go of her hand and stood. He kept his smile to signify his win but also to hide the cloud of sadness that grew in him as he realized that what he truly wanted he would never have. He loved her so much, and he hurt so enormously because of it. "Ready to go?"

Hermione slowly wobbled to her feet and held on to the sides of her skirt. He wondered why she did it. He had seen her do it numerous times when they were alone. "Yes, classes tomorrow," she said, almost like an afterthought. He laughed. He wondered if he had really dazed her. He wanted to believe that he did. They started walking back toward the Common Room and every movement made the pressure on his shoulders heavier. Tomorrow - everything would be back in place. He would go back to Lavender, and Hermione would go back to spending all her time with Harry. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It made his spine curl, and he had to prolong it. If he couldn't stop it, then he would bloody slow it down.

"Do you want to take the long way?" he asked.

She gave him a look. "Why?"

He couldn't exactly tell her that every moment with her made him forget about all his other stress, but he also couldn't flip it and tell her that every moment she was with Harry alone and he was with Lavender alone felt like someone was performing the Cruciatus Curse on him. "Um, just…because. I'm not in a hurry to get back to Seamus."

Hermione eyed his closely, and it was like she was taking a finger to his brain. He always felt as if she could read his mind, but she obviously couldn't see what he really wanted. She grinned and squeezed his elbow for a second. "I understand why that's not exactly desirable. Sure, we can take the long way. I really enjoy walking the halls."

He let out a breath of relief. "And the company, eh?"

She put a finger to her chin. "Mmm, some people are better to walk with than others, I'd say."

"Do I make the top ten at least?" he asked, loving how easy it was to banter with her.

Hermione grew a little more serious. "Would you believe me if I said that you were my number one?"

His knees shook somewhat and he let out a slow breath. She was too fucking amazing, and she made things so bloody hard for him. He didn't know why she insisted on giving him hope and more reasons to love her when she didn't want to be with him. Even so, it still eased every part in his body to hear her say that. "I'd like to," he said earnestly.

She touched his arm yet again and grinned. "Well, you are." His body throbbed and his mind screamed. He fought every urge and every plea. He had to.

"Great," he mumbled before pulling away from her. He needed a moment to collect himself before he lost everything he had built up since term started. He swore that he would be strong. He saw what holding on had done to Ginny, and he didn't want it for himself. They both had to move on, no matter how wrong it seemed.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, let's go," he said. They stared walking and turned left at the end of the corridor instead of right like they were supposed to. His moment was over and he suddenly felt excited. He was getting a few extra minutes with Hermione, and it was what he lived for. They didn't speak as they strolled, but they were close enough to where their arms touched.

Ron wanted very much to wrap his arm around her waist or guide her as she walked with her back against his chest. His body began to pulse. He had to find some sort of medium. He slowly reached his hand out and brushed his finger over her knuckles. She looked up at him and stopped walking. He stared right back and tried to tell her with his eyes that he was too weak to fight this round. He brushed his fingers again. He needed to connect with her at least one more time.

She looked down and he did as well. She slipped her hand in his and held it loosely. It was shaking to some extent. He squeezed her hand tightly before letting their fingers lace loosely again. He peaked at her shyly. Her cheeks were pink, and she nodded. "Okay?"

He nodded as well. "Yeah." They stood as closely as they could to hide their held hands before walking again.

Another round started. Ron battled everything inside himself. He didn't know why holding her hand now felt so much more powerful than it ever had. He reckoned it was because they were back at school and anyone could catch them. Then again, he almost didn't care. Some things felt too right to be ashamed of, and this was one of those things. It was what he had always wanted to happen. He wanted to walk the halls of Hogwarts while holding his girlfriend's hand. Hermione was the girlfriend that he was truly supposed to have. He knew it was overly sensitive and probably stupid for a bloke to daydream about something so tender, but he couldn't help it. He was a prat when it came to romance, but he knew that it was essential when Hermione was involved.

As they made their way closer to the staircase leading to the portrait hole, they let go of each other. Ron didn't want to. He didn't want to have to leave her like he knew he was going to have to. He wanted holiday back and his time with Hermione. He needed another chance to tell her how much he wanted to be her boyfriend, but he wouldn't get it. They walked through the hole and luckily Lavender wasn't there waiting to jump on him.

"So, um, goodnight, Ron," Hermione said quietly.

He was incredibly content, but he knew that it would soon be over. No matter, he wanted to enjoy what he had at the moment. He rubbed his neck and nodded. "Yeah, I'll try."

She grinned at him and it lit up her gorgeous face. She had held his hand and had understood his need. She possibly had the need herself. He suddenly gave a shaky chuckle, like a git, and walked up the stairs. He couldn't stay around her any longer. His desire for her would only lead him to weakness.

All his roommates were there when he opened the door. "That took a while," Neville said.

"Yeah, a lot of first year nutters tried to get outside," he answered. He turned his focus to Harry who was sitting on his bed and slowly pulling clothes out his trunk. Ron wished that Harry would talk to him. He knew something was terribly wrong. Harry could keep to himself and be a stubborn prat all he wanted, but Ron knew him better than anyone. He was in some kind of trouble, and he wanted to help his mate. Harry had been a good listener and gave him wicked advice when he told him about his situation with Hermione and Lavender. No matter how distracted he was by other things, Harry's state was always really important to him.

"Then why do you look so happy?" Dean asked.

"Huh?" Ron said, taking his focus off Harry.

Dean shrugged and smiled. "When you came in you were all cheerful and bouncy, mate."

"I reckon Lavender gave Ron's cock a late season's greeting," Seamus said with a wink. "Which one was it? Wank, head, or cunny?"

"Seamus, you worry me sometimes," Neville said.

"Yeah, not all of us have to share every detail," Ron said, rolling his eyes. Everyone thought that he and Lavender were shagging or that she was at least sucking him off. He even heard that people assumed he fingered her during class like a true boyfriend was supposed to. It made sense to everything but him. The idea made him cringe and especially after all he had been through with Hermione over holiday. "Well, if you really want to know, I didn't even see Lavender. It's just… patrolling with Hermione. It was fun." All of them looked at him strangely except for Harry, who actually grinned a little. Ron knew that he understood, but the rest were hopeless to realize the truth.

Hermione was better. Hermione was everything.

* * *

**** There you go! I hope you all enjoyed this. I love writing Ron's pov so this was a pleasure. I picked these four because they are some of my favorite pre-relationship moments and ones that really work for Ron's perspective. Not to mention, they each give a very different take of his state of mind and how he feels for Hermione. It was also very refreshing to write what goes through his mind while in this story's universe. I refuse to believe that he's just a stupid git that has no deepness to him. Obviously, you all know that by now, lol. So, thanks for reading and REVIEW! Writing this has sparked an idea and feedback will help me cement my decision.

CHEERS!


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